The Runaway
by SpyKid18
Summary: Set in 1850. Buffy Summers thinks her life is over when she is betrothed to Liam Angelus. But then she finds herself inadvertently in the back of a stolen coach, and she sees just how wrong she is. SPUFFY.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: New story! This is a bit short (more of a teaser than a first chapter) so you can expect future chapters to be more involved. Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter One

Her life was over. At the young age of seventeen, Buffy Summers knew without a doubt that her life was over, because her parents had decided to marry her off to a man with about as much personality as one of those marble sculptures in a museum. In fact, the marble probably had more personality.

Liam Angelus was not Buffy's idea of an ideal suitor. While he was admittedly handsome, that was unfortunately where the allure ended. Their conversations over the weeks of courtship had rarely strayed from weather and her health. One night he had inquired what she had for dinner, and she thought that the world must be ending.

"You can't honestly expect me to marry him!" Buffy had said incredulously when her parents had first told her of the betrothal.

"Dear, this is for the best," her mother had said. "The Angeluses are a fine family."

"Yes, they may be a fine family but their son is an insufferable bore."

Mr. Summers had affectionately touched her cheek then and said, "He is a good man, darling. And I believe he will make a find husband. Just give him a chance."

"But I don't love him," she had said, lower lip trembling.

"You will learn to love him," her mother had said.

So, it was decided. She would marry Liam Angelus and essentially give up any chance of true happiness. And her mother wondered why here spirits had been down. It was another one of the town's dances and she suffered through clumsy reel after endless reel with Liam. He was a tall man and he did not seem to know how to use his legs. Or feet. Or any limb attached to his body, really. His bows always looked as if he were keeling over.

She slipped away when she had the chance, making her way over to the family carriage. Making sure that no one saw her, she slipped in the back seat and laid down, resting her head on the cushion. She knew her parents would reprimand her when they found her, but even that would be superior to spending another minute with Liam Angelus.

The way she thought of it, she was going to be stuck with him for an entire lifetime. She was entitled to an evening on her own. Slipping her hands under her head, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When she woke up the carriage was moving. It was still dark outside and she felt a brush of panic when she realized that neither her mother or father were in the carriage with her. Still, there were explanations. Perhaps the coach had needed to move the carriage. They could be going to pick up her parents right at this instance. She sat up gingerly and peered out the window. They were definitely not near the dance hall anymore and her stomach dropped.

"Jeffrey?" she called out tentatively. "Jeffrey, where are we going?"

The carriage pulled over to the side with a jerk and she was thrown to the side, her arm hitting the side of the carriage.

"Oi!" the man up front said, turning around. She just about cried out when she saw it was not Jeffrey, but thankfully she was too frightened to make a noise. "What are you doing back there?"

"I-I belong here," she said, finding her voice and her courage. "This is my family's carriage. May I ask what you think you're doing with it?"

"I'm commandeering it," he said. "Actually, steal might be the better word. I have no intention of returning it."

Her eyes widened. "I demand you bring me back this instant."

He laughed. "You demand I take you back? Well, then I guess I have no choice, do I?"

"You're mocking me," she said in disbelief.

"Yes, pet, I am. Look at me and now look at you. Who do you think has the bargaining power here?"

She narrowed her eyes. "When my parents find out you kidnapped me-"

"Now, easy with the kidnapping there," the man interrupted. "I did no such thing."

"You most certainly did!"

"I did not know you were in the back. You might notice it's dark outside, pet. Didn't see you back there."

"Well, then take me back," she said petulantly.

"I don't know if you grasp the concept of stealing. One generally does not give the stolen item back, which bringing you back would necessarily require."

She began to feel like this conversation was rather hopeless and she said, "Well, then what are you going to do?"

He climbed out of the driver's seat and grabbed her arm, opening the door and hauling her out of the back. She tried to fight him, but his grasp was strong.

"I think I will leave you right here. Someone is sure to pass by morning."

"You can't leave me here!" she said, her voice rising with fear.

"Well, what do you suppose I do? Take you with me?"

She went to say no, but then she got an idea.

"How about we strike a deal," she said, speaking fast as her words tried to keep up with her mind. "I will give you the carriage if you will take me to the nearest train station."

She fell even more in love with the idea when she said it aloud. She always had wanted to see New York. Or maybe Chicago. Anywhere but home, really, and once she got on a train, there really was no stopping her.

"First, I already have the carriage," the man said. "Second, I have no intention of taking you anywhere. While petty theft doesn't ruffle my feathers, kidnapping surely does."

"It wouldn't be kidnapping," she argued. "I am a willing participant. A willing travel partner, if you will."

"I certainly will not," he said drily. "Sorry pet, but you're out of luck."

He began to walk back toward the driver's seat and scrambling for anything to make him change her mind, she said, "I'll turn you in!"

He looked back. "Excuse me?"

"I have a remarkable memory. When they find me – and they will – I will tell them each and every one of your features and they'll get a sketch. Yes, the police will get a sketch and they will send it out to all the police every where else and…and bad things will happen."

The man smirked. "Will they now?"

"Yes, they will. And they'll catch you," she said defiantly. "I'll make it happen."

"Is that so?"

She nodded fervently, holding his gaze. She needed him to believe her, despite the truth that she had just about the worst memory imaginable. She could barely remember her own middle name.

"Alright, fine," he said after a long pause. "I will get you to the next train station."

She grinned. "Really?"

"You do realize, though, that it's not for a good two or three hundred miles."

She swallowed hard. No, she had not realized that. She almost reconsidered, but then images of a life with Liam Angelus flashed in her mind. Two or three hundred miles be damned, she would not go back to that.

"Well," she said, climbing into the front of the coach beside his seat. "I guess we better get going then."

He shook his head, grinning a bit, before taking the driver's seat. He pulled on the reins and the horses began their slow trot.

"Well, pet, if we're going to spend some time together I imagine it would be good to know each other's names."

She turned her head toward him and said, "Buffy Summers."

"William Pratt," he said in return. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Buffy Summers."

**A/N: Would you like to see this continued? If so, please leave feedback.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this!**

Chapter Two

The carriage made its way down the street, the uneven gravel causing her to bounce a bit from side to side in her seat. She glanced over at the man beside her at the reigns, and thought to herself how different this day had turned out. When she woke up that morning, she had expected a rather dull day. There would be the dance, and then another round of dull conversation with her betrothed. Instead, she ended up in a stolen carriage with a man she barely knew. There was another bout of rough gravel and she jerked forward with a yelp.

"You know, you don't have to be up here with me," William said, glancing over at her. "The covered area is more suitable for a lady."

"I am quite content here," she returned. "Besides, I like to see where we're going."

"Keeping an eye on me?" he asked, lips turning up into a smirk. Not missing a beat, she returned, "Precisely."

"It seems a rather useless trial for you, pet, considering that I am fairly sure you haven't the slightest notion where we are."

She feigned outrage at his suggestion, although it was largely true. She knew she was in a carriage on a road, and that was about it. Still, she didn't enjoy the tone of his voice.

"That is not true," she said.

"Then where are we?"

"That is beside the point," she held stoutly. "The point is that I want to stay right here to make sure you continue on toward that train station. Because that's the deal, remember? I don't speak a word of you or your stealing the carriage, and you get me to the train station."

"Yes, pet, I remember the deal," he said slowly. "What has you running, anyway?"

"Who says I'm running?"

"You are willingly alone in a carriage with a man you just met," he spelled out, casting her a look. "You are running from something."

She shifted in her seat and admitted, "Fine, I'm running from a man."

"A man? Isn't that what you lot are usually running toward?"

She gave him a look. "He is a very dull and boring man. And we are set to be married, which would be a worse fate than death."

He snorted. "Is that so? I must tell you, pet, you continue to surprise me. But tell me, what exactly do you expect to do once you get to the train station?"

"Go far away," she said.

"Do you have any money?"

She hesitated, eyeing him warily. She admittedly may not have the best sense in the world, but she knew better than to openly discuss her financial situation with a man who stole a carriage.

"Don't give me that look," he said calmly. "I'm only asking because getting on a train requires money. So does everything that follows."

"I have enough," she said. There were a few banknotes in the purse. Granted, it wouldn't get her much farther than the train itself, but she would figure the rest out later.

They approached a small inn and William pulled the carriage over to the side. There was a stable over to the side and William climbed out, offering a few dollars to the stable boy to watch their carriage before turning and offering his hand to Buffy.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

"I'm hungry," he said. "As I imagine you are, too. Besides, we need a place to stop at for the night."

She looked at his hand warily and he said, "Come on, pet, I promise not to bite."

She was more worried that inns required food and a bed, and their money talk from earlier had her marginally concerned. She hadn't thought of all the stops before the train station, itself. Three meals a day and then lodging in between. She'd be lucky if she had a penny to her name by the time she got to the station. There was little she could do about that now, though. Telling herself silently that she would figure out the money situation later, she took his hand and stepped down from the carriage.

They walked inside and the musty smell of ale hit her nose. William breathed in deeply beside her, rubbing his belly. A server sat them down in one of the back corners, and as they walked to the table several men eyed her lasciviously. Self-consciously, she pulled the bodice of her dress up higher.

"It's no use," William said, stretching his legs out under the table.

"What is?"

"Tugging your dress up like that. They're still going to look."

She made a face and said, "It's repulsive."

"No, it's human nature," he returned easily. "They are men and you are a woman. Going to those meat markets called dances, I can't believe you're surprised."

"Those men would never look at me that way," she held. "They are gentleman."

William chuckled, shaking his head. "They may look like a gentleman, but all men are the same, pet. They all looked at you like that at some time, too. It was just when your back was turned. It's society. Forces them all to pretend they are these neutered gentlemen with mild manners. But they're all the same. The lust and desire. The difference is the men here don't try to hide it."

She sniffed, shifting in her seat. "Well, they should try."

The server came and took their orders. Buffy ordered as light as she could, which William read into easily and said, "Get a full meal, this one's on me."

"You don't have to-"

"I know I don't," he interrupted. Turning his attention back to the server he said, "She'll have the pot roast. With extra potatoes."

The server nodded, walking away. Buffy looked at him strangely and asked, "Extra potatoes?"

"Yes," he said. "Those are for me."

* * *

She hadn't realized how hungry she had been until the food was set in front of her. Her stomach purred as she shoveled forkful after forkful into her mouth. She nearly finished the extra potatoes and William murmured, "I guess those were in fact for you."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said through a full mouth, pushing the plate toward him.

"No, pet, it's fine. You finish it."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. You're picking up the next meal."

She gave him a look and said, "Just when I think you're not terrible."

"I stole your carriage, love," he reminded her. "My default is terrible."

He had a point.

"So, what are you to do next?" she asked him, dabbing at the side of her mouth with a napkin. "I'd imagine one typically steals a carriage with some plan in mind."

"I don't have a plan," he answered. "I never do. I'm morally opposed to plans."

"Is that so?"

He nodded, reaching forward and plucking a potato off her plate. He popped it in his mouth.

"Plans are rigid and controlling," he said. "And they never go as they're supposed to, which means you are essentially setting yourself up for failure."

"Aren't you cheerful," she muttered.

"Plans are for fools. So, as someone who is not a fool, I refuse to make them."

"So, what do you do?"

"Whatever I like to," he answered. "Whatever desire or impulse I have, I go with it."

She stared at him, trying to grasp this unfamiliar lifestyle he described. She couldn't' imagine a world with plans and order. Growing up, her parents had set a rigid schedule with tutors and lessons. Each day was planned out from the moment she awoke to when she went to bed. The thought of the freedom he described was bothersome – although she couldn't deny somewhat exhilarating, as well.

"It sounds like madness."

He grinned wide. "Exactly, pet."

She considered this for a moment and then said, "But you do have a slight plan this time, don't you? You're taking me to the train station."

"Yes, that is a rather unfortunate turn," he agreed. "But, you could say that it came entirely from my lack of a plan. Because if I had some sort of grand scheme behind my stealing your carriage, you in the back certainly would not have been a part of it."

She made a face and said, "If you are insinuating that I am not good company, then I must tell you that you are sorely mistaken. I am wonderful company. Which is precisely why it would be a crime to buckle me down with that dullard Angelus for the rest of my life."  
William smirked, "You really dislike the lad, don't you?"

"If you had met him, you'd know what I mean."

"Oh, but I have," William answered easily, reaching in his pocket and drawing out a cigar. With wide eyes, she stared at him while he took the knife from the table and cut off the end.

"You know him?"

"Yes," he said, lighting the cigar. He took a few short puffs and then a long drag, smoke billowing from his mouth when he pulled away. "I've played cards with him here and there."

"You've played cards with him?"  
"He's an abominable player. Absolutely no poker face."

"And as dull as a board," Buffy added. She glanced down at the plate and sighed, pushing it toward him. "You finish the rest."

"You're finally full? I thought the time would never come."

"Very funny," she said drily.

William pulled a few dollars from his pocket and put them down on the table.

"Come on, it's time to call it a night."

"Is it really proper?" she asked, standing up and following him toward the barmaid, who apparently would be getting them their room. "Us sharing a room?"

"If you want your own you're paying for it," William told her.

She shook her head quickly, swallowing her pride. It may not be proper, but she wasn't willing to shell out money when she didn't have to.

"I suppose one room would be fine."

He studied her face while he took another puff of his cigar. His gaze was maddening, and she was about to demand to know what was on his mind when he said, "I will tell her that we are man and wife. Will that assuage your guilty mind, pet?"

She balked at the idea initially, but on second thought it suited her just fine.

"Yes, it would."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Who would have thought the girl running away in the back of a stolen carriage would worry about impropriety." He turned toward the barmaid and said, "My wife and I would like a room for the night."

The barmaid looked at him levelly and named the price, adding, "You pay now or you don't get a room."

"That will be no trouble," he said, pulling more bills out of his pocket and handing them over. The woman leafed through them for what Buffy assumed was to check for any fakes. Content with the stack of bills, the woman stuffed them into the pocket of her dress and said, "Follow me. I'll bring you to your room."

The three of them went to the back of the room and then up a rather rickety staircase. After what felt like an eternity on the about-to-collapse staircase, they reached the landing and the woman led them to a small room outfitted with nothing more than a decently sized bed and nightstand.

"Here it is," the woman said. "Enjoy your night."

Buffy walked in, glancing around as she tried to figure out where William would sleep. She would surely get the bed, but there didn't seem to be much room on the ground. There was hardly enough space for her to walk. William stepped around her and sat down on the bed, tugging at his necktie.

"Do you think we should ask her for extra blankets?" she asked.

"What for?"

"Well, I imagine the floor isn't too comfortable on its own."

William continued to undress, movements slow and unaffected as he asked,

"Who's sleeping on the floor?"

"You."

He laughed, shaking his head as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt. "Pet, there is not a single chance in this world that I am sleeping on that floor. I am a bed man. Or an exceedingly comfortable couch."

"But, where will I sleep?"

William stood, unhooking the suspenders from his britches. "The bed would probably be just fine."

"I couldn't!" she stammered, eyes wide. Her cheeks flushed at the very thought of sharing a bed with a man who was not her husband.

"You don't have to worry about me making advances," he said dismissively. "You're not the type of woman I prefer, anyway."

She didn't know why she was offended, but she couldn't deny the flare of indignation in her chest. "Excuse me?"

"You're much too blonde. I prefer dark-haired women."

"Oh, well…" she trailed off, leaning against the wall. "…then I guess I have nothing to worry about?"

He grinned. "No, pet. You have nothing to worry about. Besides, taking advantage of unassuming women has never been my specialty. I prefer my women ready and willing."

She swallowed hard. "Alright then. So, I guess I'll just prepare for bed…"

He turned away in surprising respect of her modesty, and she slipped her dress off, only left in her chemise. She walked quickly to the bed and slipped in, tucking the covers around her tightly to serve as a barricade between the two of them.

"Are you decent?" he asked.

"Hardly," she answered instinctively. He chuckled and she said, "But decent enough, I suppose. I would like to tell you now, that if you do decide to try anything tonight I have been taught how to protect myself."

"Have you?"

"A man tried to take advantage of me out on a balcony at a dance once and I kicked him so hard that he couldn't dance for weeks."

"I do not intend to take advantage of you," he said slowly. "But, regardless, thank you for the warning."

"You're welcome."

"Goodnight, Buffy."

She brought the covers up and tucked them under her chin. "Goodnight, William."

**A/N: A bit of a transitional chapter to get us on our way. I have lots of fun ideas for this - so let me know your thoughts!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this!**

Chapter Three

William was true to his word and kept to his side of the bed for the entirety of the night. Buffy, however, was the one who proved more problematic. She had always been a restless sleeper, and the bags under William's eyes suggested that his sleep had not been particular restful, either.

"Did no one ever tell you it is rude to kick someone while you sleep?" he complained, opening the door to the carriage and helping her in.

"It was not intentional," she shot back, pulling her skirt in the carriage with a jerk. "Besides, maybe you were doing something that deserved a kick. Maybe I could sense an impure thought."

"There were no impure thoughts," he assured her. "And, you will be pleased to know, from now on we are getting lodging with two beds. Your restless feet kept me up all night."

"I didn't have the best sleep myself, either," she argued, chin held up petulantly. "You took all the covers. I was freezing."

"I had to shield myself from _your_ feet," he said, slamming the carriage door shut. From inside he could hear her disgruntled harrumph. He climbed into the front seat of the carriage and picked up the whip, snapping it against the horse's bottom.

He should have never let her come with him. It was a foolish idea made in a moment of foolhardy interest. She had intrigued him. It wasn't a romantic notion – as he told her before, she wasn't his type. Still, there was something fascinating about her, and he didn't mind company here and there. The road became lonely, and she seemed lively enough.

It had been less than twenty four hours with the bint, though, and she was already driving him up a wall. He had thought that her convalescing with him meant she didn't have most of the silly sensibilities the female population unfortunately exhibited these days, but she proved to be just like all of them. He should have left her on the side of that road. That would have been the smart decision. But William Pratt chronically lacked in that department. He acted impulsively and then he ended up with a prissy girl in the back of his carriage. And not even one he could derive some enjoyment from.

About an hour had passed, and he was ruminating further on his poor decision skills, when two horsemen approached. He glanced behind as one came to a stop behind them and the other skirted in front, causing William to come to a sudden jerking stop.

"Oi, what the hell?" William said loudly.

A third man on horseback approached, trotting beside William, his hand laying heavily on a pistol at his hip.

"Easy, now, we mean no trouble," the third man said. William glanced between the three horsemen and thought to himself, _I highly doubt that_.

"What can I help you with then?"

"Well, you see, we've found ourselves in a bit of a tight spot," the third man said, eyes roving over the carriage. "You by yourself?"

William thought of Buffy asleep in the carriage and immediately said, "Just myself. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," the other maid said levelly. He sniffed loudly, hand leaving his pistol momentarily to drag over his nose. "Now, about that tight spot. Our group is heading North this week. It's a bit tapped out here, I'm sure you understand."

"I suppose," William asked warily, eyes sliding to the side to see if there was anything up front with him that he could use to defend himself. He had shoved his pistol under the seat earlier, but there was no way he could get that without drawing attention to it. All he had within reach was the horse whip, and he tightened his grip on it.

"See, the problem is our group grew. We're tight on space. That's where you come in."

William frowned, his stomach clenching. "Is that so?"

The man pulled his pistol from the holster and leveled it at William's head. "Here's the deal. Give us the carriage and no one gets hurt."

"How will I travel then?" William asked levelly. He thought that the longer he kept this guy talking the longer he had to formulate some sort of plan. There had to be something – some way to get himself out of this. He'd worked his way out of binds before. Then again, it had never been three on one with at least one gun leveled at his head.

The talking angle seemed to work as the other man laughed, pistol dipping slightly as he said, "That's really not our concern."

"Maybe leave me a horse," William continued. "Or maybe your pistol so I can try this little move on the next unassuming sap to pass by."

The man's smile hardened and he said in no uncertain terms, "Let me put it plainly. You either give me the carriage or you get a bullet between the eyes. The choice is yours."

"You know, that is an awfully lopsided ultimatum," William said, taking a glance back to see the man at his rear pointing a gun at him, too. He wasn't going to be getting out of this situation unless he did something fast. "And, might I add, this carriage is not nearly comparable with my living and breathing. The wheels are a little rickety."

"You talk too much," the man said.

"And that's not even close to my worst characteristic."

"And what's that?"

William snapped the whip at the guy in front of him, hitting him in the face, as he ducked down and yelled, "Making rash and foolish decisions!"

He grabbed the pistol from under the seat, straightening up and blindly shooting in their direction. One of them shot a round and it whizzed past his head, nearly hitting him. The third man launched himself toward William with an animalistic roar. William knocked the pistol out of his hand and drove his fist into the man's face. There was a satisfying crunch and blood poured from the man's nose like water from an open spout. Another shot was fired and William watched as the man at the front of the carriage howled in pain, the bullet entering his upper arm. A few seconds later he collapsed and fell clean off his horse. William ducked quickly before another shot was fired.

The third horseman seemed to have come to terms with the blood pouring from his nose, and instead focused his attentions again on William. He came at William ferociously, hands closing around his neck. William fought him off, dimly aware of the carriage doors opening and Buffy jumping out with her parasol at the ready. His initial thought is that she was surely going to get herself killed. A parasol was no match for a gun, particularly not when wielded by someone who looked as small as a child. His second thought was that he had to get this man off of him, as breathing was becoming quite the problem.

"You get away from my carriage!" Buffy shouted, savagely driving the edge of the parasol into the nearest horseman's side. He curled forward in pain and she raised the parasol over her head, bringing it down onto his head with a resounding thwack. After that one hit he was still conscious, but a second did the trick. Meanwhile William was struggling to get the remaining horseman off of him. The man seemed to be bolstered by the blood flowing freely from his nose, and William turned his face as it splattered on his nose and mouth. He closed his eyes tightly, plotting his next move – whatever that was – when suddenly the pressure from his neck was lifted.

He opened his eyes and was met with the horrific sight of the man staggering backwards, Buffy on his back and clawing at him. While the parasol might have been effective, her strength alone was not, and the man easily threw her from his back. He turned around, stalking toward her with his teeth bared. William didn't have much strength left, but he took what was there and pulled himself from the seat of the carriage. He came up to the man and pulled him around to face him, driving his fist into his face. He did it again and again, until his knuckles bled and he couldn't discern his own blood from the horseman's.

"William," Buffy said, taking a hold of his arm. "William, stop. You're killing him."

William pulled away, breathing heavily. The last horseman as unconscious, his face a distorted mess of blood and swelling.

"We better go," Buffy said. "There could be more."

"You're right," William said, dragging his sleeve across his mouth. His breathing had slowed down and he was beginning to think clearly again. "Come on, help me move the bodies."

Together they dragged the unconscious bodies out of the carriage's path, and then both climbed into the front seat.

"I think I'll ride here for now if you don't mine," she said, glancing at him. He shook his head, eyes travelling to the bloodstains on the bodice of her dress.

"No. I don't mind at all."

They drove in silence for a while, Buffy casting him glances now and then. It had been about five minutes of silence when she asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said immediately. "I should be asking you if you're alright."

"I wasn't the one nearly choked to death," she said, glancing at the already visible fingermarks on his neck.

"I'm fine," he repeated. He thought back on the experience and said, "You know, I thought I was seeing things when you jumped out of the carriage with that parasol."

"You did?"

He laughed softly, nodding. "Yeah, thought it was some hazy before-death-hallucination. Something to give me a laugh before I kicked it."

"That parasol is no laughing matter," she returned. "It saved both of our bottoms."

He nodded appreciatively. "Yes, it did. I must say, I did not expect you to use that as effectively as you did."

She smiled slightly. "I suppose there's a lot about me you wouldn't expect."

He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. "Is that so?"

She gave him a look and said, "We should stop somewhere and get you cleaned up."

"You too."

"Me? I'm…" she trailed off when she glanced down at her blood-stained dress. "Oh. This is the only dress I have."

"We can stop off and get you some made. I could use some new shirts, anyway."

She nodded, turning her head and watching the country pass. After a moment he cleared his throat and said, "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?" she asked, turning her head back toward him.

"I don't know if I would have gotten away from that man earlier if you hadn't jumped on him. So, thank you for that."

"Oh, well, you're welcome." He nodded and after a beat she said, "Thank you for protecting my carriage."

He laughed and said, "Oh, so it's _your _carriage now?"

"As long as I'm in it, yes," she held. "But don't worry, it's all yours once we reach the train station."

"Well, thank you for that assurance."

"You're very welcome."

She turned her head back toward the passing scenery and he thought to himself how wrong he had been earlier. She wasn't anything like those girls he had known. They would have cowered in the covered carriage while waiting for him to come to their rescue. Instead she jumped out wielding a parasol. He glanced over at her, momentarily distracted by the way the sunlight hit her face. He looked away quickly, returning his attention to the road.

**A/N: Action! Hope you enjoyed this! I had a lot of fun writing it. Feedback is much appreciated :D**


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